“B-Blake. No parents, it’s just me and my brother. Thank you for chasing him and his friends away, but I’m okay. I can go now.” Blake’s head is bowed, his gaze fixed on the floor. Something tells me he doesn't want us to see his face and give away his age. There is no way this kid is old enough to be out on the streets at this time of night alone, and if his brother is all he has then he most certainly isn’t going back out there.
“Nice to meet you, Blake. My name is Eric and the badass in yoga pants is Jordan. We aren’t going to hurt you. We just want to offer you some warm clothes and perhaps something to eat. If you still want to leave after, then I would insist I drive you home, okay? A kid shouldn’t be out walking around the streets in this weather. Especially this late at night.”
I raise a brow at Eric over Blake’s head.No, Eric. You most certainly are not taking this kid home to his brother. He needs a safe place.
“Or if you want to leave, but don’t want to go home, I have a friend who works at a shelter for teens. Maybe you’ve heard of it? The LGBTQ+ Center?” I’m already making plans to call James while Blake is in the shower. He will know the right things to say and do here. I don’t even know if this kid is anything other than straight, but really it doesn’t matter. The guys at the shelter will look after him either way.
Blake’s head snaps up at the mention of the center and it's then that I catch a glimpse of the bruises on his face. Some old, some new, but that isn’t what has me reaching out and tugging this boy into my arms. I can see clearly why Blake's brother and his dumbass friends have been hurting him and it has my blood boiling all over again. It wasn’t the mention of a shelter that shocked Blake into looking at me. It was the fact I mentioned ‘LGBTQ’—and Blake is wearing a full face of makeup. I would have said maybe he was trying to hide his bruises, but the perfectly-cut crease eyeshadow look he’s rocking says otherwise. Now, Blake could be a straight boy who simply gets a kick out of wearing makeup. The way he just looked at me, though... it was like I had discovered his secret.
Releasing him from my hold, I smile at him, then look at Eric and back again. “Don’t worry. You are in good company. Now, why don’t you take a shower while I find some sweatpants for you to wear. Eric will rustle up something to eat and I will call my friend at the shelter so you have some options. Sound okay to you?” I don’t wait for him to respond. It’s already hard enough to accept help from strangers, never mind having to vocalize your needs. Turning him toward the bathroom, I guide him down the hallway and show him how it works. “I will leave clothes outside the door for you to grab and we will be in the kitchen when you are ready. Take your time. You are safe here.” I hope if he believes anything, he believes that.
I was one of the lucky ones. My parents have always been supportive of me no matter what I did. I wanted to learn the trumpet in middle school? No problem.They got me lessons and suffered through four months of me practicing. I wanted to chuck in the trumpet and be a popstar instead? They switched me to singing lessons and cheered for my living room concerts every weekend. I wanted MAC products for my seventeenth birthday? They paid for a tutorial instore and bought every single item I used that day. I never had a problem telling my parents I was gay. I think they knew long before I did, but they gave me the space to realize it on my own.
Thanks to their unconditional love and support, I had the confidence to be whoever I wanted to be—fuck what anybody else thought or said.
Looking at Blake, though, I'm acutely aware of just how fortunate I was. I had my wonderful parents. But who's looking out for this kid? For all I know, he really does have nobody other than that cunt of a brother. I can’t even begin to comprehend what he's going through right now.
The softness of Eric's hand sliding onto my cheek brings me out of my musings. I blink up at him and see his brows are furrowed in concern. “You okay, Lashes?” he asks in that same soft tone he gave Blake, brushing away tears I hadn’t even realized were falling.
“I’m so fucking mad. That poor kid,” I whisper into his chest. This isn’t really what we do—comfort each other like this. But right now, I don’t care. I need him to hold me and give me some of his unwavering strength.
“You were a badass back there.” he tells me, using his thumb and forefinger to tilt my chin up so I can look into his beautiful gray eyes. Eyes that seem darker somehow, a turbulent storm as opposed to the calm waters I normally see. I have always known how compassionate Eric is. I’ve seen it over and over with clients. His concern for others is visceral, and right now he is studying me like he is seeing a side of me he didn't expect.
Wait… when did I start thinking of Eric as beautiful? Sexy, sinful, hot—yes, all of the above, but beautiful? That's something Pete would say. Ugh, it must be the adrenaline messing with my neurons.
Taking a deep breath, I step back out of his embrace before I do something stupid like catch feels for the man. “I better go get Blake some clothes and call James.” I pat his chest awkwardly, then turn and book it to my bedroom.
ERIC
I’ve prepared a few sandwiches and heated up what looked like lasagne leftovers from Jordan’s fridge. Setting out plates and cans of soda on the small dining room table, I sit down and wait. The events of the evening are catching up to me as the adrenaline wears off. How is this homophobic shit still happening? Blake is just a kid, and somebody he trusted, probably looked up to, turned on him over what? Some makeup? The fact he likes boys? It sickens me to my very core. Ilivedthat shit. Not from my family, but from other assholes and their hateful words. I thought things were better these days. Hate will always exist, but I just can’t wrap my head around a guy abusing his kid brother like that. Even bringing along his friends like it's all a game. Blake is probably going to be reliving that night and fuck knows how many others nights like this for his whole life. My heart hurts for the kid.
It affected Jordan just as hard. I could see the sorrow all over his face. Probably because Blake reminds him of himself. I don’t know if Jordan suffered bullying like that when he was growing up, but even if he didn’t, he has likely had at least one hurtful slur thrown his way over the years. I have a feeling that Blake has just earned himself a new big brother, maybe even two if he wants. My demeanor generally puts people off and I tried very hard to control the growl of anger in my tone, to mask it so I didn't frighten an already terrified kid. For all we know, he might clam up and decide he would rather take his chances on the streets. Not that Jordan would allow that to happen.
James and Derek from the shelter will know what to do. Maybe they’ll even bring some of the other teens over to help ease Blake into trusting them if he isn't ready to trust us. I mean, hedidsee Jordan waving around a gun, after all.
Hearing the shower shut off, I sit up and straighten my shoulders. I’m an attorney, for fuck’s sake. I can handle stressful and tense situations. Jordan is the first one to join me at the table. He is finishing up his call with James, and I can hear him arranging for Derek and some of the teens to come over and pick up Blake. I imagine that Jordan wants to keep Blake here, but that isn’t the answer. We are strangers and the people at the shelter are trained to deal with these situations.
“They are going to head over in the next hour or so. They want to get a room ready for him. James is going to call Roman to come along. They find that having the biggest guy you’ve ever seen walking beside you and protecting you makes you feel safer. Just in case the brother is still lurking around.”
Jordan is still shaking as he’s talking, but he settles when I reach my hand over to cover his on the table. I didn’t miss the way his body responded earlier when I hugged him. I felt all of him relax for just a moment before he tensed back up and ran for his room. Jordan is as afraid of commitment as I am, but he craves touch at the same time. I won’t push him on it, but I won’t allow him to put me in a box and shut me out if I'm here and he needs comfort. I am more than the sum of my dick. I’ve never wanted anybody to know that about me. Hell, I’ve never wanted to comfort anybody before, either, but I guess tonight really has flipped everything I thought I knew on its head.
We both look up when Blake shuffles into the room wearing a pair of Jordan’s sweatpants that only reach to his calves, and a hoodie that looks suspiciously like one of mine. I don’t even remember leaving that here. I cock an eyebrow at Jordan, who just shrugs and smiles as he ushers Blake into a seat and pushes food in front of him.
“Eat as much as you can,” urges Jordan. “My friends from the shelter are going to come over and you can chat with them. They have a room for you. A private room so you can lock your door if you need to feel safe. They are even bringing Roman with them. He's part owner of the shelter and training to be one of the counselors there. Wait until you see this guy, he’s like a walking mountain. Nobody is going to hurt you now, I promise.”
Jordan’s words seem to ease something in Blake. The tension he was carrying in his shoulders lessens visibly and he starts to eat.
The attorney in me wants to know his backstory. To find out everything so that I can foresee any problems going forward—the main one being how old Blake is. If he is below sixteen, his brother might have guardianship over him and that will cause some legal issues. Not my field of law, but Jackson is one hell of a family law attorney and I don’t even need to ask him to know he will help.
“I know you probably don’t want to talk about what happened earlier, Blake. But can you just tell us how old you are? You don’t need to lie. Nothing will change. I just need to make sure legally your brother can’t come after you.” I’m trying to keep my tone even so as not to spook him. I should really ask more about his parents too, but one step at a time.
“Eric is an attorney. You can trust us. I know that probably seems like a lot to ask, but we just want to help. If you really don’t feel comfortable talking to us, then we can wait for Derek and a few of the teens from the shelter to get here. Might help you settle some.” Jordan offers Blake an encouraging smile and nudges the plate closer to him to get him to keep eating.
“I’m seventeen.” He almost whispers it, but I catch it and nod. That makes things much easier. According to the state laws, seventeen is the age of consent. His asshole brother won’t be able to touch him. Especially if I can convince Blake to take a restraining order out on him. I can have it drawn up and filed with the courts tomorrow. With the evidence of abuse clear on his face, the judge won’t think twice. I reach over and land a supportive hand on his shoulder as Jordan gets up to answer the door.
CHAPTER 11
Eric
